Secret Santa 2012
by cmol8806
Summary: I couldnt come up with a title. Booth gets jealous soon after getting together with Brennan. For Robert Modean


**First, have to thank musicnlyrics, my wonderful beta and fanfic buddy for the help on this. **

**This is for Robert Modean. You came up with some really changelling prompts. I came as close as I could, I hope you like it**

**So this whole thing is probably very, VERY OOC. But how did I do?**

Booth sits in his living room; a hiss escaping his lips as his throat feels the stinging burn of the scotch he pulls straight from the bottle. Not a single light is on, the heavy darkness fitting his mood perfectly. He flexes the bloody fingers on his left hand, anger thickly running through his veins.

"Fucking bullshit," he venomously spits through gritted teeth, deeply drinking from the bottle again, the amber liquid sloshing in time with the rage filled shakes convulsing through him. He tightens his grip, briefly considering shattering the bottle against the far wall. But it won't stop there and he's not really in the right financial standing to replace all of his furniture. He looks up as the doorknob is shaken, followed by furious banging.

"Booth!" her voice penetrates the wood of the door as if it were tissue paper, loud enough to surely wake up more than a few of his neighbors. "Booth! Open the door! NOW, you coward!"

Booth is off the couch long before she finishes her screaming demand, furiously opening the door, the scotch still in his hand. Surprised at his quickness and still heavily intoxicated from their time in the bar earlier, Brennan stumbles back. She takes a second to recapture her balance, her gray eyes glaring into her partner's. Her cheeks are pinked, from her anger or the copious drinks she had indulged in.

Booth takes in the sight of her, his anger growing. He usually finds her drunken state cute and endearing, especially when her hair is mussed and her lips swollen from kissing, like now. But he wasn't the one who ran his hands through her silky hair, who tasted the residue of rum and fruit juice from her lips. His expression darkens at the memory of that other man, some loser in a stupidly tight T-shirt, wrapped around HIS Bones, KISSING her, his hands trailing down to her…

"You left me," her cutting voice breaks through, her surprisingly strong hands pushing his chest just enough to allow space for her to enter.

"I didn't invite you in," he speaks through gritted teeth, slamming his door close. His neighbors can go to hell with any noise complaints.

"You LEFT me!" Brennan yells in a mix of anger, disbelief, and hurt.

The hurt almost has Booth backing down, but the pain in his right hand sings up his arm, refueling his anger. "Yeah, I did! You fucking blame me? You were with another man! We haven't even been together a week!"

"I was extremely intoxicated! My judgement was non-exit, non-existss. It wasn't there!" Brennan stutters, trying to smooth out her hair in vain. "And that doesn't excuse your behavior! You broke his nose!"

The bottle shatters against the wall as Booth gives up. His burning eyes zero in on Brennan, and for the first time she flinches in fear from him. He stalks towards her, his head buzzing with his own drinks from the bar and the scotch.

"Damn right, I broke his nose! I would have done more than that, too! He was two inches away from groping you! And you didn't give a fuck!"

In her space now, Booth barely lowers his voice to a yell, though the intensity stays high. He clenches his fists to keep from touching her; the pain shooting from his hand completely ignored by the pain radiating from his heart. Betrayal burns his stomach, spreading up his throat to add venom to his words.

"I always thought you didn't know your worth. Promised myself I'd show you. But maybe I was wrong, Brennan." Stunned by this different side of Booth, of the unfamiliar darkness in his eyes, she allows herself to be maneuvered until her back connects with the back wall. "I guess tonight was my fault. Maybe you like being treated like a whore, huh? Is that it?"

"Stop it," Brennan gasps out, fighting tears as he steps closer until space between them in non-existent. One hand harshly tangling in her hair, his lips fall to her neck, sucking with a punishing force, his hand grabbing at her without a trace of the gentleness from their last encounter.

"Is this how you want it? You want to just be another piece of ass, right?" His hand slides under her blouse the other pushing her pelvis against his.

"Booth, stop," Brennan struggles vainly, becoming fully aware of how strong he is for the first time, her legs pinned by his. She feels panic and disbelief start to choke her as her hands are gripped tightly by one of his above her head. This cant be happening, not by her Booth.

"I know you like it rough. What did you call it?" Booth nips at her ear, unsnapping her bra, either clueless to her tears or uncaring as his fingers circle her nipple. "Uninhibited? Is this what you were looking for tonight, huh? Quick, no-feelings-involved- fucking?"

Booth pulls back to look at her, a dark sarcastic smile on his lips. The sight of her tear covered face, of the cold disgust and hurt in her eyes strikes him like lightening. What the hell is he doing? He is instantly sober, and he stumbles back, shaking with overwhelming guilt that threatens to drown him.

"Bones," he begins weakly, tears of remorse already thickening in his throat. "God, I-I…"

He turns away, wiping his face with both of his hands, not looking at her. He reaches the opposite wall, turning back with tears falling down his cheeks. Brennan stands still as a statue, the only movement that of her almost silent sobs. Booth waits for her to bolt out the door, to leave his life forever like he fully believes he deserves. But the seconds tick by and she stays in place. Condemning himself to eternal damnation, he realizes she has to pass by him to get to the door and of course she wont go near him, not after what he just did. He painfully watches two more tears fall down her pale face, each slicing into his heart like razor sharp knives.

"I'm sorry," Booth whispers, swallowing the self-loathing bile rising from his stomach. He drops his eyes at her silence and walks out of the apartment without another word exchanged between them.

* * *

Heavy footsteps echo in the emptiness as soft sunlight shimmers in through the window at the end of the hallway. Booth walks with his head down; shoulders slumped with the weight of surrender and defeat. All night he had walked with the searing burn of self-disgust burning his stomach. He had hoped some kind of numbness or emptiness would overcome him to dull the pain. But no matter how many dark buildings he passed or vampiric shadows were cast by glowing streetlights, it never did. Instead, and he cruelly tells himself that it's much less than he deserves, a new pain was added by a viciously breaking heart as he realized what he lost.

Standing alone in the rain so many years ago, the rejection after that meeting Sweets about that damn book, both are moments of lost and heartache. But neither touches what he feels now. He actually had her, could see the light at the end of the tunnel that was their future together. But he let one nameless drunken bastard rip it away from him. He stops in front of his apartment, bracing against a fresh wave of remorse as he shakes his head. No, it isn't the bastard's fault but his own. There aren't words for what he deserves for putting that look on any woman's face, let alone the woman he claims to love. Like his father did to his mother.

Tiredly his head falls against his door, his shadowed eyes closing. How is he going to face her again? There is nothing-NOTHING-he can do to apologize for what he did, what he almost did to her. In stupid move of jealousy he had ruined the most important relationship of his life. He lost the love of his life. His face crumples in pain and he clenches his bruised hand tightly, relishing the physical pain as small punishment.

Dimly he hears purposeful footsteps coming from the stairs. Wanting to be left alone to his wallowing, Booth finally puts his keys in the lock and enters his apartment. Unwillingly his eyes are drawn to the wall where he had her pined and he curses himself colorfully. He looks away to the corner where he threw his best bottle of scotch. The stain that should have been there was washed away and the broken glass is gone; another shot of guilt. He turns to his bedroom, takes no more than three steps before the scene in the open doorway finally registers and he freezes, finally feeling something other than anguish.

"Bones," he breathes out, slowing walking forward, eyes trained on her sleeping form.

She is laying stomach down on top of the comforter, still dressed in the clothes she had on the night before. Her hair is spread around her face, a clump near her mouth, threatening to enter with each of her soft breaths. Booth kneels next to her, fighting the urge to move her hair back to behind her ear. He stares at her face, squashing anything even suggesting hope at her presence. Her face is still puffy from crying, faint dark smudges under her eyes telling how late she stayed awake.

She takes a particularly deep breath and before she can choke on her hair, Booth brushes it away the gentlest of movements. But it is enough to wake her and he pulls his hand away, watching as that stunning, one of a kind blue is revealed to him. He is filled with such overwhelming emotions but no words come to him. Saying sorry just seems too feeble to him, useless words that she's heard before.

"Hi," Brennan breaks the silence, her soft voice husky from sleep.

"Hi," he whispers back. Booth looks into her eyes, trying to read the one woman that has always stumped him. She looks right back at him, as if trying to gauge his own thoughts. He doesn't know what to do what to say to her now but she beats him to it, and in true Bones fashion says what may be the last thing he expected.

"You had every right to be angry," she says calmly.

"What?" Booth is shocked, looking at her like she lost her mind. "Bones, NOTHING excuses what I was going to do! I-I- Jesus!"

"I'm not saying that what you did was acceptable or that I liked it," she frowns, sitting up. "But you weren't going to go any further."

He shakes his head grimly; looking down at the floor, hands tightly fisted. "No, Bones, you don't know that. I had you against the fucking wall!"

"And you stopped. You were drinking heavily because you were angry and hurt because I allowed that man to kiss me and touch me in a way that undermines the relationship we have started."

"No. No, we're not doing this," shaking his head, Booth walks a few steps away, hands on his hips.

Brennan's eyes widened. "Not doing what? You don't want to be in a relationship with me anymore?"

"Not this kind!" he whirls back.

"What kind?" Brennan stands as well, pure confusion in her voice. Booth blinks at her, not sure how to act.

"What I did in there was not okay, Bones."

"I already said your actions were unacceptable. And if you try it again, which I doubt, I'll be forced to cause you extreme pain," she says in her rational, confident way, the tone almost making Booth want to chuckle. "But I'm telling you that I understand your jealous anger as I also experienced it with you. Including last night."

Booth gives into his spinning head, sitting down on the bed. "What are you talking about?"

"Keep in mind I had quite a few drinks," she warns, looking both angry and insecure. "When I was walking back from the restroom I saw you talking to the blonde bartender. She was very pretty and seemed quite taken with you. She was leaning on the bar in an unnecessary angle that was obviously in an effort to get you to gawk at her breasts."

"Bones, I wasn't even paying attention to her," Booth says sincerely. "I was more concerned about you. I've never seen you drink that much at one time before."

"Well, the alcohol impaired my judgement. Though it was irrational, when I saw you both, my first thought was to make you jealous too." With a small sigh, Brennan sits timidly next him, turning her body to face him. **"**I've never loved anyone before. I got jealous and took an unacceptable course of action as well. I'm sorry for that."

Booth clenches his fists, again shaking his head. "Stop apologizing to me Bones."

"Well, forgive me and I'll forgive you. Then we'll make up." She raises her eyebrows when he frowns at her. "I don't want to run anymore, Booth. This what people in love do, right? Forgive and make up? When it's worth it?"

He stares for a moment, in awe of how wonderful she truly is. "Yeah. Yeah. Come here."

He takes her into his arms, unbelieving that he is allowed to and still feeling like he doesn't deserve it. She's still here; he gets another chance to have a future with her. Booth closes his eyes; they've had so many chances together, have screwed so many up that surely they won't get anymore. He nuzzles his nose into her hair, forcing his arms to stay gentle instead of crushing her to him in relief like he wants.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he says softly, eyes closed. "God, I'm sorry. I'm not-I'm not like that. Its not who I am."

"I know," she whispers, a tear falling silently down her cheek. For a few horrible hours last night, she thought she was on her own again and while she was angry with him the thought of never feeling his body against hers again was... heart crushing.

"I'm not going to drink anymore, I promise."

"That's ridiculous," she pulls back a scoff, but his thumb softly covers her lips.

His eyes serious and grim, he shakes his head once. "No it's not. If I can treat you like that while drinking, then I'm not drinking. I'm not going to risk that with you, Temperance."

"Okay," she nods, agreeing, as she intuitively knows he needs her to, taking his hand in hers.

She leans forward, gently touching her lips to his. It's a gentle kiss, gentler than any they've shared together, almost chaste. But the emotions are strong, pouring out of one to be eagerly absorbed by the other. Their lips pull apart but they rest their foreheads together, eyes closed and hands still linked in a connection stronger than they've experienced before. Brennan releases a puff of air on a low chuckle, causing Booth to pull back enough to raise his eyebrow quizzically.

"You need a shower," Brennan says apologetically though her eyes are laughing out at him.

"Gee, thanks, Bones," he smiles, standing. Brennan follows him up, pressing her body to his so he can feel every soft curve.

"I should shower, too," she says in a velvet voice, the sexiest smirk Booth has ever seen on her face. "Perhaps we should share."

"Um," Booth stutters, at odds within himself. He knows what that looks means and he instantly starts to respond. A very large part of him wants to snatch her up and ravish her. Another part, the part consumed with guilt is hesitant to touch her after what he did.

Whether or not she sensed his struggle he'll never know, but she solves his dilemma for him by simply sliding up enough to capture his lips with her own. She seductively sucks his bottom lip into her mouth, wetly covering it with her tongue before plunging in to duel with his own. Brennan slides her fingers into his hair, her blunt fingernails scratching against his scalp. Her hips press against his as she releases the most erotic soft moan into his mouth. With a smack their lips separate, their bodies still plastered together.

Panting slightly, Brennan runs her tongue out, tasting Booth on her mouth. He watches, his dark eyes molten brown. Her mouths open to speak but Booth urges her back onto the bed, falling with her. He uses both of his hands through her hair, framing her face.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, thumb tracing over her soft cheek to her lips. He follows his finger with his mouth, nibbling. His large hand trails down her side, briefly cupping her breast until slowly sliding under her shirt.

Brennan's eyes drift close, surrendering to the sensations. Her hands graze down his muscled back to his hips, where they clench in reaction to his thumb's featherweight torture on her nipple. She turns her head with a gasp, allowing his warm wet mouth to travel over her neck as his hands explore her body. Each touch, each kiss is soft as a sigh, a promise of passions yet to be fulfilled.

Every inch of silky skin he touches and tastes, fuels the roar of lust inside him but he forces it into control. Their first time had almost been a rush, a floodgate of pent up feelings broken open. They made love three times that night, the only night they've been able to spend together, and each was passionate. But as sweet and wonderful as it was, it wasn't the slow, gentle lovemaking he had always dreamed of with her. Now is the perfect opportunity, circumstances demanding he be gentle.

Mouth suckling at a taut pink nipple, Booth skims her inner thigh, his callused fingers languidly pushing into wet heat. Brennan moans, low and long, inviting him deeper with a roll of her hips. He grunts in reaction, switching breasts even as he pumps in time with his sucking, his thumb moving over her most sensitive spot.

"Booth, yes!" Brennan pants, bowing up taut as a wire. Though her eyes are open, her vision is blurred, her entire being focused on the orgasm pulsating through her. Even as she comes down, Booth is driving her up again, abandoning her chest for her eagerly awaiting mouth.

Muscles tight and slick with sweat, Booth positions himself over her. "Bones."

He waits, wanting to again see her eyes unfocus as he slides himself inside her heat. Brennan drags her lids up obligingly, only to go wide-eyed as he eases in. He lowers his mouth to hers, his control slipping farther and father away with each thrust. He tastes her mouth, her neck, and her shoulder, heart rapidly increasing with each delicious scrape of Brennan's nails down his back.

Feeling another explosion overcoming her heated body, Brennan grasps his hips, rising up with each movement to meet him. "Booth, harder!"

He willingly obeys and soon all else is lost in sensation as they burst over the edge of pleasure together. Panting, they rest in a heap of glistening limbs, lips caressing over whatever skin is nearest. Without thought, their fingers are pulled towards each other until once again they are joined.

"Angela was right," Brennan says to the ceiling moment's later, breath still short. Booth simply raises his head in question. "Make up sex is amazing."

"Right," Booth laughs breathlessly. Pulling her still heated body to his with his arm, he closes his eyes, content to have her close. The wandering hand of his partner wipes off his soft smug smile. He opens his eyes to find her smiling mischievously.

"We still have to share a shower."

**HAPPY NEW YEARS!**


End file.
